


Kuroo No Tsukki

by FelicityCleone



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Implied Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo is a jerk as usual, M/M, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Multi, Revenge, Revenge Sex, but it might, how do i tag srsly, idk if its going to really have a kiyotsuki tho, my little firefly is suffering, slightly OOC, sort of fast paced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityCleone/pseuds/FelicityCleone
Summary: “Love him and let him love you. Nothing else really matters.”Kuroo Tetsurou loves Tsukishima Kei, who loves him back just as much. Nothing else should matter, especially when he has his firefly with him. His tiny light is enough to guide him even through the darkest of nights.But when his world is suddenly bathed in the blinding rays from a myriad of spotlights, would he still need the tiny speck of light his little firefly can only provide?The KuroTsuki Celebrity AU you didn’t know you needed (bc you probably never really do lol)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay i know i still have another ongoing fic but this one's been nagging at me so i just have to get this out of my system soooooo...

** Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End | Owari No Hajimari **

 

_"Love is a trap. When it appears, we only see its light, not its shadows."_

_-Paulo Coelho|By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept_

***

 

Kuroo Tetsurou is your ordinary Japanese teenager. He lives in an ordinary apartment unit with the rest of his ordinary family. He attends an ordinary high school in the midst of Tokyo. He has an ordinary circle of friends. He follows an ordinary class schedule, like any other senior high school student. He belongs to an athletic team, just like any other ordinary teenage guy. He talks about girls like any ordinary teenage guy. He receives love confessions (from girls and boys alike) like any other ordinary senpai. He rejects every single love confession, just like any other ordinary person who is already happily caged in a relationship.

 

Kuroo Tetsurou is your ordinary Japanese teenager, until Nekoma wins the Nationals.

 

Truth be told, Kuroo will never be able to tell you anything in detail, because everything felt like a blur, but he does remember the big things. He remembers the cheers, the happy tears of his team mates, the teary-eyed smiles of their opponent, Karasuno. He remembers the tight grip of their captain, Sawamura Daichi, when the other shook his hand and thanked him for an epic battle of the trash heap. He remembers the TV crew and the courtside reporters fawning over them.

 

He vividly remembers how his firefly congratulated him on their win, a small smile playing on his lips from across the net. He remembers how he had wanted to cross over to Karasuno’s side, but Tsukishima Kei had turned away and walked off the court before he could. He remembers how the blonde had greeted him with a fervent kiss in the shower rooms, how his long pale hands traveled the expanse of his back and his chest while whispering how proud he was of the bedhead earlier. He remembers how Kei’s pink lips wrapped around his aching shaft, how his teary golden eyes looked up at him so prettily, how his cheeks hollowed the deeper he took Tetsurou in.

 

He also remembers the cute little wrinkle on his Kei’s face when he pushed himself in until the hilt, how he kissed the tears away. He remembers the little circles he drew on the blonde’s sharp hips while waited for his boyfriend to get used to his intrusion, how the blonde clung onto his shoulders like a lifeline, how their thrusts finally matched each other in the sensual dance of lovemaking. He remembers how he admired the love bites he left on his boyfriend’s neck, chest, and thighs, and how said boyfriend grumbled about it being hard to hide behind his jersey. He remembers the blush that adorned Kei’s cheeks when he told him the very important three little words, and the chaste kiss he got in return.

 

He remembers the scouts from a prestigious university coming to school the next week after that, and he remembers how they talked to his parents regarding a college scholarship. He remembers how he started his collegiate life the next school year, and how he got into the best collegiate volleyball team, and how they became even better with him and Bokuto as new members.

 

He remembers how Tsukki joined him in Tokyo during his third year, and how the blonde sat among the audience at his every game. He remembers how the blonde also sat in the audience with Kuroo’s parents during his graduation, how the blonde always made his bento when he finally got his first job, even when he was busy with his own thesis.

 

He remembers how the coach of the national team approached him one day in April, how Kei persuaded him to finally join, how they got the Olympic Gold. He remembers the product endorsements soon after, and his first photo shoot for a sports magazine. He remembers how he swapped his office job for show business, and how he won over the rest of Japan by his sharp wit and unlikely charm. He remembers his first TV guesting, his first modeling stint, his first autograph session.

 

He remembers how he had less time at home and more at the studio, he remembers how his dates with his firefly dwindling down from once a week to every month to occasional to practically zero. He remembers how he missed Tsukki’s graduation because he had grueling practice, how he missed his congratulatory party for raking the highest honors because he had this rehearsals for an upcoming runway show, how he failed to greet him for getting his first job at a company with incredibly high standards because he had a photoshoot somewhere in Okinawa.

 

He remembers the fights, and the teary-eyed reconciliations. He remembers how Kei always gave in and forgave him for every missed anniversary, for every missed vacation, every missed birthday, every missed…everything. He remembers the many nights he’d find his boyfriend sleeping at the sofa waiting for him to finally arrive.

 

He remembers his steady rose to fame, and the sacrifices he had made to get there.

 

_“Kuroo-san, you share an apartment with somebody, right?”_

_Tetsurou blinked at a member of the media as cameras flashed away. It was a very off-tangent question, considering that the press conference was supposedly about his first movie, so what did his living arrangements have to do with it?_

_Glancing around, he caught sight of his manager who nodded at him subtly, a signal that he ought to answer. So he did._

_“Yes. I share my apartment with another person.”_

_The cameras flashed again, and the reporters suddenly closed in on the newbie actor, like a pack of wolves around their prey._

_It baffled Kuroo even more when they all started raining him on with questions, one after another that he did not know which one to answer first._

_“May we know who you’re sharing it with?”_

_“Is this person a girl?”_

_“Is she your girlfriend?”_

_“How long have you been living together?”_

_“Are you going to marry her anytime soon?”_

_“When did you two first meet?”_

_The questions died down as quickly as they arrived, and the entire room sat still, waiting for him to speak. What he did not know then was that the next words he would utter would cost him so much._

_“I share my apartment with a longtime friend.”_

_The very next day all the tabloids, gossip pages in social media, and even the television stations all featured a full cover story about Tsukishima Kei._

But what he remembers most of all, as vividly as if it happened yesterday, is how he finally lost the glow of his beloved firefly while soaking up all the spotlight for himself.

 

_“I would just like to clear out one thing: Tsukishima Kei is just a friend, a kouhai whom I took under my wing. Yes, we share living quarters since college, but we are simply roommates. I am not a faggot.”_

 

He remembers coming home to an empty apartment that day.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: hey post one chapter per week!  
> also me: you finished another chapter, why not post it now?
> 
> ahahaha i was really supposed to stagger the chapter posting, but i remembered i will be away for a week for vacay somewhere so here ya go! enjoy chap 2 minna-san!

** Chapter 2: The Return of the Firefly | Hotaru Wa Kaeru **

_ "I have learned that people may stay, leave, cure, and destroy you but by far the most dangerous thing they will ever do is come back." _

_ -Beau Taplin|The Arsenal _

__

***

__

Kuroo Tetsurou may have once started as an ordinary teenager but now, after five years in show business, he is far from it anymore.

At 29, one may say that Kuroo is at the peak of his career and his life, in general. He has become one of the most sought-after athlete-turned-actors in Japan. He has done photoshoots for prominent designers in the country, and has even had his share of Harajuku Street Fashion experiences. His billboards cause traffic jams, even more so when he was chosen as an ambassador for an underwear brand and they out up a large billboard of him in snug white cotton boxers in the middle of Shijnuku-ku. (He became a trending topic in Twitter no more than 5 hours after this was put up.) His mall shows and appearances fill even the biggest of venues. His commercials and endorsements practically fly off the shelves. His TV shows raked in ratings, and his movies one blockbuster hit after another.

Everyone who has ever hoped of making it into the Japanese entertainment industry looked up to him. They wanted to be like him, own the things he owns, know the people he knows, go to the places he goes, be friends with the people he befriends. They wish they had his life: the glitz, the glamour, the fame, the wealth.

What they do not know though, is that after the cameras are turned off and put away, Kuroo’s hollow smiles turn into wracking sobs.

***

“What do you mean, they backed out on the deal!?”

Kuroo looked up from the morning paper he was engrossed in at the sound of the angry shouts coming from his manager who was currently talking to somebody over the phone. He most certainly doesn’t envy whoever it is that Yaku Morisuke was yelling at—they seem to have taken a fairly good verbal beating, if Yaku’s mad splutters and heavy stomps were an indication. He shook his head with a small wry grin and went back to reading, looking forward for a peaceful rest day in his penthouse suite. He plans on staying home the whole day today, in nothing but his boxers and his favorite fluffy bath robe, finally catching up on his reading list. It was his first day off in months, so he would indulge himself.

When the call ended, the man marched from his patio straight to where he was sitting in his dining table. He was about to joke how Yaku’s brows are about to merge in if he continued to scowl like that, but decided against it when the strawberry blonde wordlessly picked up Kuroo’s coffee and drained it without a word. Yaku hates his coffee black and here he was, drinking Kuroo’s coffee like it was water. Definitely not a good sign.

“Are we in trouble?” he asked after a while, when it became evident that the shorter man had already calmed down. Ish.

His friend-slash-manager let out an annoyed huff as a response, reminding him of their high school days. Yaku also huffed that very same way back then when Lev did a poor attempt at receiving the ball.

“Not really,” Yaku said, opening his laptop as he helped himself to the stack of pancakes Kuroo had made for both of them. “I’m just pissed off at people.”

Kuroo reached over and ruffled his friend’s hair with a small, almost-paternal chuckle. Yaku had approached him after his first year in the business and offered to become his manager, which he accepted despite the onslaught of advices telling him to get someone more experienced in talent handling. It was one of the best choices he has made so far. “Wow, what injustice has humanity bestowed upon you, Mori?”

“Shut it Kuroo, I’m angry.”

“At whom?”

“At people.”

“In general?”

Mori stuffed his mouth with another pancake before nodding fervently, making him look like a furious bunny. “Especially at people who change their minds at the last minute.”

“Wow, sounds really annoying.”

“I know! I mean, who does that?” Mori’s irritation at the earlier call seem to have resurfaced, and he started pacing with such brisk steps Kuroo was sure he’d bore a hole in the soles of his shoes later. “Who the hell schedules us for a major photo shoot and then back out three days before the shoot is due?! And I’ve declined all the other offers for this one!”

Kuroo hummed placatingly in response. This was nothing new to him, showbiz is a risky business, after all. Someone could easily topple you off if you’re not careful.

“It’s okay, I have a lot lined up next week anyway, so another time off is more than welcome.”

Mori’s eyes glinted dangerously at him as soon as the words escaped his lips, his features morphing into one that resembles an angry beast, complete with a feral grin. It sent shivers down the bedhead’s spine without reason.

“Oh really, Kuroo? Losing a project is okay with you?”

He nodded mutely, unsure how to answer the question. One wrong word and Yaku would have his head, there’s no mistake about that.

Yaku’s feral grin stretched wider. “Even if I tell you it was the Armani deal?”

Kuroo stood up in surprise, eyes blown wide.

“WHHAAAAAAATTTTT????!!!!!!!”

Damnit, there goes his plan for a lazy day off.

The bedhead ignored Yaku’s self-righteous smirk and ran to his walk-in closet.

“Call the Armani team, Yaku. We’re paying them a surprise visit.”

He knows that even he can be replaced at any time, but that doesn’t mean he’d allow it all too easily, either. He’s gone through a lot to get to where he is now. He’s sacrificed a lot to get to where he is now. He has even lost someone important to get to where he is now. He won’t allow just anyone to take the top spot from him without putting up a goddamn fight. 

Whoever it is who had the guts to steal his coveted project will pay dearly.

***

Meanwhile, in one of the expensive suites of a five-star hotel in Tokyo, someone’s rest was disturbed by a phone call, cutting the phone owner’s sleep short. Said owner blindly reached out towards the nightstand for the blasted device after its incessant ringing, muttering a steady stream of curses at being jolted awake. It was his first decent rest after a series of runway shows and photo shoots, so why the hell can’t the world leave him alone?

Tsukishima Kei was never a morning person, and everyone who knew him knew that important piece of information about him. Being woken up after a tiring day was high up in his hate list, next to murdering puppies. No one dared to disturb his slumber for fear of his salty and snarky retaliation.

Well, except for one Kiyoko Shimizu.

Tsukki forced one eye awake to see who the caller was, and groaned to see Kiyoko’s name on the screen but answered it nonetheless. If he doesn’t, the girl will just ring him over and over until he goes deaf or until he answers. (He knows this from experience.)

“Yeah?” His tone was dripping with annoyance, but the girl on the other line remained unfazed. If anything, he could have sworn she was wearing a shit-eating grin right now. Grumpy Tsukki never really worked on her. “Do you have any special wish before I kill you?”

Kiyoko laughed on the other line, a sultry laugh that one would never guessed coming from her, what with her calm and almost expressionless (but nonetheless strikingly beautiful) face. He kept silent until after she was done laughing.

Her voice sounded like dripping honey, just one of her many assets. “Well good morning to you too, handsome.”

“There is nothing good in the morning, Kiyo.” He grumbled, rolling back to his original sleeping position while the phone remained glued to his ears. “Don’t you have to be annoying somewhere else? Today’s my personal time off, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He sunk lower into his bed, relishing the feeling of doing nothing but lounging. It has been ages since he has had a day to himself, and he was looking forward to sleeping the entire day away.

“I’m coming over.” Kiyo’s voice cut through his sleep-filled senses, sharp and clear. “I don’t want to have to pull you out of bed when I get there, so get up you sleepy dino.”

That jolted him awake, sitting straight up on his bed, any trace of drowsiness forgotten. Sure, Kiyoko Shimizu was a headstrong woman who knows what she wants and is hardly swayed when she has already made a choice, but she is not the type to be spontaneous. She follows a plan, a schedule. And she is not the type to upset other people’s routines.

“What?” He sounded as disbelieving as he felt, and it sent Kiyoko into a fit of giggles. “Why would you do that?”

“Because we have a contract signing in an hour, you dummy.”

He does? He isn’t the type to forget his schedule, but just to be sure, Kei’s eyes traveled instantly to his appointment calendar and saw that today’s date was left unmarked.

“I don’t have anything scheduled today.”

“Yes you do.”

“Which one? Who added it without telling me?”

Usually Kei had the final say in every project he gets involved in, because he chooses his projects by its appeal. He does not do a job for fame or for money as his family was wealthy to begin with anyway, instead he chooses them as to whether he finds it interesting or not.

“I did.” Kiyoko said playfully, making the blonde frown deeper. “It’s the Armani deal.”

Armani has decided to open up its fall line early in Japan, and needed two Japanese models for a series of photoshoots. There had been so many hopefuls who wanted the spot, but since Kiyoko and Kei had worked for Armani loads of times, they already had an advantage. Naturally, Shimizu Kiyoko was their first choice for a female model and Kei for the male, but he has initially declined because he wanted to have a day to himself.

“Kiyo, I thought they already found me a replacement.” That was true. The project director has expressed his regret at not having Kei model for him, but found himself a pretty decent replacement nonetheless. Or so he had assured Kei’s handler on the phone.

Kiyoko laughed at the other end of the line, obviously pleased with herself. “They did, but I told them I won’t do it if my partner isn’t you. So hurry up, I’m almost at your hotel.”

With a last groan and an eyeroll, he dragged himself out from the bed. There goes his plans for a whole day rest out the window.

***

“I am really sorry, Yaku-san.” The assistant who met them by the lobby was red with embarrassment at having to explain to them the reason why they suddenly changed their mind about getting Kuroo Tetsurou as their fall line ambassador. “But you see, our female model is more comfortable with her longtime runway partner and wanted only him.”

A vein in Yaku’s head was throbbing heavily as he listened to the explanations of the assistant, and he was sure it would explode the more he listened. Just what kind of an entitled prima donna does this model think she is? And is she really that valuable to the company that they allow her to wreak havoc and give in to her unreasonable wishes?

“I see.” He forced himself to grit out the words as politely and as calmly as he could, but he could not stop the angry huff that followed soon after. “And did this partner agree to the terms?”

“He initially declined, actually,” The assistant said in a low voice, looking like she was about to cry any minute. “But Mademoiselle Shimizu has persuaded him, so…”

“So you’re dropping me off the deal just like that?” Kuroo Tetsurou finally butted in, unable to take the injustice any longer. He is Japan’s number one, for goodness sake. He should not be fighting to get bookings, the bookings come to him. He made sure he used his most intimidating business voice  when he said, “I want to talk to the project director.”

With a deep bow, the assistant ushered him to the conference room where the contract signing would be held. Yaku and Kuroo shared a discreet high-five before strolling down the halls with heads held high, feeling that they’ve got this in the bag. Kuroo was a master charmer, all he had to do was talk to him, make him realize that letting Kuroo go was a mistake, and voila!  _Hello, Armani._

__

He realized how very wrong he was when he finally came into the room.

“Ohisashiburi, Kuroo-san. It’s been quite a while.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> supposed to be on vacation, but stuck in traffic instead of the mountain resort i'm supposed to be in three hours ago -.- so here's the third chap

** Chapter 3: Please Remember | Oboete Kudasai **

 

_"A thousand times I wanted to take his hand, and a thousand times I stopped myself. I was still confused—I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I didn’t know how to begin."_

_-Paulo Coelho|Eleven Minutes_

***

 

It has been said before: Kuroo Tetsurou is a master charmer.

 

It was the sole reason why he is Japan’s number one, and everyone agrees: Kuroo Tetsurou can charm anyone, even a rock. He can make crying babies calm down. He can make even the old ladies swoon over him, and win the approval of the grumpiest old men. Kuroo Tetsurou has made hearts melt, break them into irreparable pieces, and put them back again.

 

Today, he will put his master charmer skills to the hardest test yet.

 

***

 

As expected from a well-known international clothing brand, the House of Armani owns a posh, sophisticated building in the heart of Omotesandou, a place in Tokyo well-known for its high-class boutiques and shops. As exquisite as the building looks on the outside, its interior is more striking. One only has to look at the crystal light fixtures and the tastefully done interior design to know that Armani is indeed at the top of its game, raking in all the profits.

 

“Do you think this place hires people based on their fashion taste?” Yaku asked in a low voice, looking at all the employees scurrying into the maze of hallways, in varying degrees of panic and stress. But they share a commonality: all of them are exquisitely dressed.

 

Kuroo smiled at a group of employees who were ogling at him and discreetly taking pictures, no doubt to post it on their social media accounts (He was right,  _#KurooTetsurouForArmani_ made its way to Twitter’s top ten trends of the day). “Maybe,” he stopped to join a group selfie, “but I’m not sure, Yaku.”

 

After a few turns down halls, they finally reached Conference Room 11.25F, where the contract signing is to be held.

 

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person!”

 

They were greeted by a tall French guy who, in true Armani fashion, looked like he just stepped out of the pages of the latest  _Vogue._ He was tall, even taller than Tetsurou, with the frame of somebody who works out, or plays a certain grueling sport. He had a beautiful face that demanded a second look, what with his electric blue eyes, perfect nose, supple lips, and angled jaw lined with stubble. If he had not introduced himself as Étienne Lavaude, project director, then both guys would have mistaken him as the model who  _stole_ Kuroo’s spot.

 

“Monsieur Lavaude, thank you for having me at such short notice.” Kuroo’s words were practically dripping with honey as he trained his eyes at the other’s own, as if drawing him nearer to him. Etienne Lavaude looked like he had hordes of girls everywhere, but the way he checked Kuroo out was unmistakably obvious—he wants the guy before him. Kuroo will exploit that weakness so he can turn things around and get the coveted spot. “I heard about the model mishap for Armani’s Fall Line, and I may have a proposition for you.”

 

The project director took sure, deliberate steps towards the bedhead, making heavy sex eyes at him as he drew near. Kuroo couldn’t help but give out a smirk; this was all too easy. And it’s not even 10 o’clock in the morning.

 

“Oh really?” There was no mistaking the lustful purr in the man’s tone as he leaned towards Kuroo, adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation. “Is your proposition worth my time, Kuroo-san?”

 

But before Kuroo can dangle out his bait, there was a sudden commotion outside, snapping the French out of his Kuroo-induced trance. Kuroo gave a small  _tsk._ The spell had been broken.

 

An assistant peeked through a connecting door.

 

“Mademoiselle Shimizu is here, Monsieur Lavaude.”

 

“Let them in.”

****

The doors instantly opened, revealing an impeccably dressed couple fawned over by the employees. It was crazy, the way the clawed at them for an autograph, the way they squealed as they took pictures, the way they just practically worshipped them. These two must be really famous, even more famous than him if they can get this crowd to go crazy just by being in the same room!

 

Etienne Lavaude instantly left Kuroo’s side and walked over to the newcomers with all the eagerness of an excitable puppy whose owners just walked in through the front door. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite fashion couple! How was Europe, mon cherie?”

 

The girl walked into Etienne’s embrace and gave him a tight hug and a chaste greeting kiss on the cheeks. “ _E!_  Good to see you back, mon amie. Paris was magical, London was exhilarating, and Milan was spectacular!”

 

Kuroo felt that there was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t point out what. The girl had her shiny black hair in a high pony tail, exposing her exquisite facial bone structure and that beauty mole on her cheek, slightly covered by the large sunglasses she was wearing. She had the stature of a model and it was evident in the way she carried her clothes: even when all she had was a body hugging tee paired with ripped jeans and combat boots and a cream-colored trench coat to shield herself from the cold, she still looked like a million bucks.

 

“You two talk about Europe Fashion Week like you don’t get to experience it often.” The guy behind the female model said in a bored monotone, which sounded so heartbreakingly familiar that Kuroo felt as if time had stood still. Yaku must have thought the same because he turned sharply to Kuroo and then back at the newcomer who was wearing nothing but a pair of aviator glasses, a black hoodie, whitewashed jeans and a red pair of kicks (but still looked like he was modeling for sports apparel) with a comical expression.

 

Etienne laughed at the new guy’s comment. “Someone woke you up unceremoniously didn’t they, moonshine?”

 

The girl laughed prettily before hooking an arm around her companion’s waist. “He couldn’t say no to me and you know that, E.”

 

The project director pouted and looked at the girl with obvious but playful jealousy. “You are one lucky lady, Shimizu.”

 

But said Kiyoko just noticed Kuroo and Yaku at one side of the room and was intently looking at their direction (okay, Kuroo wasn’t sure how intently exactly due to her sunglasses, but he was sure she was staring at them). The French guy, for his part, jumped; like he was so engrossed with the newcomers that he forgot entirely about Kuroo Tetsurou.

 

_Who does that?! Who dares forget that I am in the same room as them? I am Kuroo Tetsurou and I own all of Japan, goddamnit!_

“Ah!” Etienne smiled. “Forgive my manners, I haven’t introduced you to each other.” He then walked over to Kuroo’s as if he was presenting him to his visitors. “This is Kuroo Tet—

 

“There is no need for introductions, E.” The lady chimed in with a smile. “I know him.”

 

There was no doubt in his mind that she knew him, what with him being popular and all, but Kuroo was sure she knew him more than that, for some reason.

 

“I don’t know if he still remembers, but our team used to play against you, Kuroo-san.” She finally removed her glasses and Kuroo couldn’t stop the audible gasp that came out from his throat. “In fact, you taught us quite a lot, right Kei?”

 

Like a scene from a movie, everything went in slow motion as the tall guy finally removed his glasses and Kuroo was staring straight into the cold golden eyes of Tsukishima Kei.

 

“Ohisashiburi, Kuroo-san. It’s been quite a while.”

 

***

 

_“What do you mean, I have to?” Kuroo was beyond angry that he all but shouted at his manager. “Isn’t there any other way? Why do I have to lie?”_

_His manager threw a newspaper on the coffee table. It had Kei’s picture on the front page, taken candidly as it showed the blonde walking towards campus, oblivious to the fact that he’s been closely followed by the paparazzi._

_“Just who is Tsukishima Kei to you, Kuroo Tetsurou?”_

_He didn’t even bat an eyelash. “He’s my boyfriend.” That’s the truth, and if he’s asked by the media about it, he’d have no qualms about telling them just how important his little firefly is to him._

_“Wrong answer.” His manager said coldly, sitting across the newbie actor. “Tsukishima Kei is a kouhai. He shares an apartment with you because he’s a broke-ass college student.”_

_Kuroo is startled. “B-but Tsukki is—_

_“You are not a faggot, Kuroo-kun, and you will tell the media that. Do you understand?”_

_“No.” He loves Tsukki, and the blonde loves him back. Nothing else really matters for him. “I won’t.”_

_His manager heaved a heavy sigh and leaned forward. “You don’t understand, Kuroo-kun. You are not doing this only for your career. You are doing this for him, too.”_

***

 

Kei couldn’t exactly hide the fact that he was annoyed, and he won’t even try. It had been three days since the contract signing and here he was at the photo shoot location with Kiyoko, waiting for it to actually start.

 

“We’ve been here for two hours already!” Kiyoko was grumbling beside him, hugging her Armani coat closer to herself. “Why can’t we just start?”

 

The annoyed lady had a point. The location was already all set, the props all placed, the equipment all set-up, photographers and assistants already on standby, and the models all dolled up and made up.

 

Ah, not all models. They were missing one Kuroo Tetsurou, who apparently just decided he’s going to make everyone wait.

 

Kei rolled his eyes despite himself, sinking deep into his easy chair in annoyance.  _How unprofessional,_ he thought.  _I bet he snoozed his alarm way too many times again, he always does that._

All of a sudden there was a lot of shouting from a distance and he felt Kiyoko snuggle to him closer, grumbling about the cold. He laughed and enclosed the raven-haired beauty in a bear hug.

 

“Too cold for you already, Kiyo?” He asked, to which the girl only responded with an even tighter hug. He wasn’t one for close physical contact, but Kiyo was a very important friend and they were both easily cold, so having her snuggled up against him was more than welcome.

 

“I’m sorry I took so long, everyone!” So it was the actor who was the cause of all the earlier ruckus. Kei looked up only to look straight into Tetsurou’s hazel ones, which were blown back at the sight of the other two models hugging tightly. The blonde thought he saw a flash of pain in those eyes, but was gone too soon as the guy looked away to face Etienne Lavaude and with a low bow, apologized for his tardiness.

 

“I’m really sorry, there has been a problem at the set of the TV show I’m currently on, so things got out of schedule.”

 

The rest of the people at the photo shoot location expressed their concern for the actor and assured him that it was fine, save for both Kiyoko and Kei. The lady did not even have qualms about letting the actor how disappointed she was for his tardiness, which left Kuroo into a bumbling apologetic mess. Kei simply looked on and listened as one member of the Armani team came up to them and briefed them about their schedules; apparently they’d start with solo shots first, then by pairs, and lastly, as a group.

 

Kuroo was the first to be called while the other two stayed at the tent nearby, watching the proceedings. The man had his bedhead pulled back into a man bun, which was an adorable contrast to the huge nerdy glasses he was made to wear. The design team had him in a loose pair of acid-washed distressed denims that were rolled above his ankles, revealing the casual design of his grey topsiders. He also had a warm cream sweater on, one that had huge pockets in front. As a prop he had a book bag slung over his shoulders and a couple of books clutched on his right hand. It was amazing how a 29-year-old man pulled off the whole college student look, but then again, they were looking at Japan’s number one. If you ask Kei it was to be expected, since the bedhead was always one to carry his clothes well. It was one of the things he loved about him back then, his boyfriend had always looked delectable it took all of Kei’s willpower to not jump right at him. 

 

_Wait, what? No, Kei, this is not the time for a freaking nostalgic journey to the past! Focus on work!_

“I wonder how he persuaded Etienne to include him in this?” Kiyoko asked aloud, watchful eyes focused on Kuroo like he was some sort of bitter competition. Maybe in the eyes of the ravenette, he was. “Did he pull some strings, perhaps?”

 

Kei deadpanned. “If anything it was you who pulled some strings, Kiyo.” Kiyoko smiled from the corner of his eyes. “I’m the one not supposed to be here.”

 

“Duh, I’d rather be with the best model.” Kiyoko scoffed, determined to hate the man currently posing in front of the camera. “Just look at him, his position’s all wrong and he does not know how to project aside from those boring cookie-cutter poses he’s been making. He does not even know where his best angle is, I bet.”

 

“That’s rude, Kiyo. Be nicer.”

 

“I won’t be nice to assholes.”

 

A snort came out from his lips, which he instantly muffled with the back of his left hand. Kiyoko can be really blunt if she wants to.

 

“He’s trying his best.” In Kuroo’s defense, the man really is trying. He’s listening to the photographer’s instructions now, and his lack of style shouldn’t really be taken against him. Kiyo and Kei had been modeling abroad, whereas the man only did shoots and CVs in Japan. There’s a big difference.

 

“Still an asshole.” Kei now laughed out loud at his partner’s immature remark, a tinkling sound which carried over the place and everyone turned to look at him in awe. A laughing Kei is a rarity, a beautiful rarity worth witnessing. He instantly turned beet-red and slunk back in his chair, feigning nonchalance.

 

Kiyoko stuck out a playful tongue at the blonde as she stood up for her turn in the solo shots. “Watch me take revenge for you, Kei-kun.”

 

***

 

_“Fuck, Yaku, why didn’t you tell me he became a model?!”_

_He had all but rounded up on his manager the moment they got home from contract signing, one which Kuroo had won over by the skin of his teeth. He had been reeling ever since Kei showed up at the Armani building and greeted them like it was nothing, like he did not disappear for five years. He even joined in their conversations like Tetsurou was someone he was just acquainted to in the past and not someone he had a relationship with. It was unnerving and it chilled him down to the spine._

 

_“How will I tell you when I didn’t even know it myself!” Yaku roared back, possibly also stressed out from the grueling negotiation they had with Etienne Lavaude just to include Kuroo in with Kiyoko and Tsukishima. “He just disappeared and no one else could find him, so why are you taking this on me?!”_

_He stood there, livid, glaring at Yaku when he know he shouldn’t. Kei’s disappearance was nobody’s fault but Kuroo’s._

_“But you could at least asked the people from Armani—_

_“Are you fucking stupid?! Look Kuroo, if you can’t handle your ex, then why did you still push yourself in when you already knew they initially offered it to Tsukishima? Either you stay professional or you stay away from him! Baka!”_

_The strawberry blonde walked out, slamming the door hard shut in his wake. Kuroo punched the nearest wall hard when he heard the door shut, not minding the crunching sound nor the sudden sharp pain. Right now the pain in his knuckles only serve as a temporary distraction to an even bigger pain he feels in his heart._

***

 

Kuroo thinks his heart is going to burst, and Tsukishima Kei is not helping.

 

They are now finally in the last part of the shoot: the group pictures. Their photographer said they needed as much excellent shots as they can get, and for the group setting, they are to portray according to a scene.

 

“According to a scene?”

 

Kiyoko, as usual, had been the one to voice her thoughts out. Kuroo turned to her in surprise, which Kei was kind of expecting. People often did that when they realize Kiyo is not as serious or as quiet as she initially looks. She may have been soft-spoken when she was in high school, but you know the old cliché: people change. Funny what a few years outside their comfort zone can do to a person.

 

“Yes, cherie. According to a scene.” Etienne said with a giddy smile. “Armani is going to tell a story this time, a story of unrequited love.” He fucking  _giggled,_ oblivious to the fact that all three models were looking at him disbelievingly.

 

“Unrequited love?” Kei all but deadpanned. “How tragic.”

 

“I know! It fits the fall theme, too.” Etienne gushed like a fangirl over her favorite TV drama. “Actually, this was Kuroo-san’s idea, and I just couldn’t say no to his pitch because it was perfect! Just the thing we are looking for!”

 

The way the other two was looking at him made Kuroo want to shrink, but he simply raised both arms and tried (and hoped) to appear as playful as he could. “What? It’s perfect! A girl and two boys…what else could it be but a love triangle? The unrequited love thing was just to fit the fall theme—

 

“And I’m sure you’d deliver, Kuroo-san.” Kuroo had a feeling that the girl hated him, and she wasn’t exactly being discreet about it. “I’m sure you know a thing or two about the pain since you cause them, right Kei?”

 

Yep. Definitely hated him.

 

Kei opted not to answer and went over to the set instead, and Kuroo followed suit. The earlier they start, the earlier they finish.

 

“Kuroo-san, please stand in closer to Tsukishima-san. You’re best friends here, and best friends don’t exactly stand a few feet away from each other.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye Kuroo could see Yaku facepalming. He stepped in closer and took a big inhale, hoping it would dispel the nervousness he was feeling.

 

Wrong move.

 

His senses were suddenly filled with strawberries, most probably from Kei’s shampoo. Tetsu felt a sudden pang in his heart at the familiarity of the scent. He used to bury his nose in Kei’s strawberry-scented golden locks after he returned from grueling practice back in college. It also did not help that Kei suddenly wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders so casually, making him breathe in more of the damn strawberry thing.

 

Before he could even react, the blonde raised a slender hand and ruffled Kuroo’s hair, like a senpai playfully roughhousing with a kouhai. Kuroo almost fainted at their closeness, and the fact that Kei was touching him again after so long apart, even if it was for a magazine spread.

 

A few gasps escaped from the girls in the set just as the photographer shouted, “Yes, Tsukishima-san, that’s it! Hold that pose, gentlemen!”

 

After a few clicks Kei changed poses, this time leaning slightly against him, like they were two bros hanging out on a lazy day. Kuroo felt all the hairs on his nape stand up.

 

“You like you’re about to be hanged, Kuroo-san.” The blonde had the audacity to whisper in his hear as the cameras flashed (Yes, hold that pose! Another!), his cool tone shooting straight down to Kuroo’s dick. His heart was about to burst, and Tsukishima, the beautiful demon-spawn that he is, is not helping. If he continues to whisper in Kuroo’s ear there will be no denying the growing bulge in the actor’s pants, which would be downright mortifying in front of the entire crew. Despite himself, he crunched his eyes shut at that thought.

 

“Are you really that disgusted to be near me?”

 

Kuroo felt like somebody just threw him in an icy lake. Tsukki had taken his expression as one of disgust.

 

Before he knew it, Kei was as far away as him as possible, with Kiyoko snuggled right next to him. It was easy to see that the two were professionals: they make lounging on a bench seem classier, sexier. Kei was now sitting on a wooden bench that doubled as their prop, legs crossed loosely like he just happened to sit that way, no big deal. The black skinny jeans he was dressed in hugged his lower frame like a lover, showing off those sinfully long legs. He had on a maroon cardigan over a plaid shirt, and he was rocking it. Even more so when the design team decided he ditched his usual glasses and had him use a pair of golden contact lenses instead, making his eyes look all the more brighter. He looked like he was some sexy mythical creature who happened to disguise as a human. Kiyoko was beautiful, make no mistake about that, but it was evident that Kei demanded all the attention.

 

_And I had that beauty all to myself for six years._

A camera flashed nearby. “Okay, it’s a wrap!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i don't know why this chapter turned out to be like this. it just wrote itself. apparently my mind translated "vacation" into "go write yourself some 3k+ words that consists mainly of smut" soooo...but this is good, i guess? giving kuroo hope (sort of) would just make a rejection more painful later on *insert evil laughter*
> 
> also, this is my first time writing sort-of-detailed smut so please feel free to point out areas for improvement.

** Chapter 4: Chances | Chansu **

 

 

_"In real life, love has to be possible. Even if it is not returned right away, love can only survive when the hope exists that you will be able to win over the person you desire. Anything else is fantasy.”_

_-Paulo Coelho|By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept_

 

  

***

 

 

It was not even the weekend yet, but _Ambrosia_ was teeming with people.

 

 

“Bet you did not expect this, huh, Suga-senpai?” Yamaguchi Tadashi all but shouted above the loud house music blasting from Tanaka Ryunosuke’s place at the DJ’s podium. From their place in the VIP section located in the second floor it was easy to see the entirety of the club and everything that’s happening within its dimly-lit corners. The large dance floor was already crowded and full of sweaty people in varying degrees of intoxication and lust, losing themselves to the music.

 

 

Ambrosia is indisputably one of Japan’s most successful clubs, catering mostly to high-class clientele: the famous, the rich, the entitled. Located in the heart of Tokyo’s red-light district, it is easy to see that Ambrosia is a high-class establishment what with its intimidating sleek black cube of a building, with heavy security prowling all over the place, and a strict dress code. It also operates on a _members-only_ admission policy, and non-members should be under a guest list of a member to be able to get in.

 

 

The chosen few who are allowed entry are not disappointed, though. Once you get past the mean-looking guards and the strict security checks, you will be ushered into a wide open space that serves as the dance floor, with tables positioned at strategic locations around, and a long bar that serves all the booze you can consume. A makeshift stage complete with two dancing poles is just in front the DJ’s podium north of the dance floor, and for those who wish to have a more private space to themselves, sound-proof VIP rooms line up the second floor. The third floor of the building contains the club’s administrative offices, and unbeknownst to everyone except the owners—longtime partners Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi— and a handpicked number, a huge pool is on the rooftop.

 

 

Sugawara Koushi smiled at his freckled kouhai and nonchalantly sipped on his drink prepared especially for them by Ennoshita Chikara, Ambrosia’s exclusive head barista. “I did, actually. After all, we are hosting two world-renowned athletes right now.”

 

 

Yamaguchi Tadashi followed the grey-haired man’s eyes to the couch on the corner of their room where Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio sat, oblivious to the world as they made out heavily—tongues entwined and hands under clothing. Now that had been a field day when the National Team’s genius setter and newest “Little Giant” revealed that they’re in a relationship—but that’s a story for another time.

 

 

“Where are the others?” He asked, looking away from the very intimate scene unfolding before his eyes. Koushi scanned the room quickly, ticking off former Karasuno VBC members as he saw them. Nishinoya Yuu, Japan’s Guardian Diety was talking to Azumane Asahi (now CEO of the Asahi Group of Companies) about… _string beans?_ Whatever. Tanaka Ryunosuke, DJ extraordinaire is still at the dance floor, working up his wicked remixes and beats (he will be replaced with another resident DJ so the baldy can still join in their long-awaited reunion). Ennoshita Chikara is at their lounge’s mini bar, serving cocktails to Kinoshita and Narita, who were trying out experimental mixes because they still can’t say no to their ‘don’, even after all these years.

 

 

“Yachi is on her way.” Suwamura Daichi suddenly piped up, already behind Suga without the two of them noticing. He placed a kiss on the grey-haired’s temple. “Hi there, baby.”

 

 

Sugawara smiled and turned to face his fiancé. “Hi back, handsome.” A peck on the lips that just overflowed with so much love Yamaguchi had to look away for a second time. “What took you so long?”

 

 

“Missed me already?”

 

 

A pout, a peal of laughter, then a kiss. Yamaguchi’s phone beeped with a message, making the freckled man light up like a Christmas tree.

 

 

“Kei is on his way, too!”

 

 

***

 

 

Tetsurou just got off the phone with Yaku, who called to say the new Fall Line would be officially revealed tomorrow and he is expected to grace the electronic billboard’s unveiling. After a thorough rundown of what he is expected to do, Yaku finally ended the call with an ominous _“Stay professional, Kuroo.”_

 

 

The bedhead sighed, putting the phone down its cradle. He knows what Yaku is pertaining to: stay away from Tsukishima Kei.

 

 

That much is easy, since the blonde suddenly disappeared again after that photoshoot and Kuroo hasn’t had another sighting of him again until now, precisely one month later. He would never admit it (and he doesn’t need to, really, since Yaku can read him now like an open book), but he would have loved to sit down and chat with Kei if given a chance. He wants to know how the blonde has been faring since he disappeared. He also knows he owes the blonde an explanation. He _wants_ to give the blonde an explanation.

 

 

And he wants to tell him that he still loves him, that no spotlight will ever compare to the glow of his darling firefly.

 

 

If only he would be given a chance.

 

 

A sudden ringing from his cellphone jerked him away from his thoughts.

 

 

“Hey hey hey!” Loud squawking could only come from one person: Bokuto Koutarou, the owl man. The cat captain was pleasantly surprised, he hadn’t expected his bro to be back in Japan today. Bokuto has been very busy for the Olympic games—he plays wing spiker alongside Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou, and Ushijima Wakatoshi, who are all part of Japan’s national men’s volleyball team. They had been in Thailand for training camp.

 

 

“KoutaBro!” Kuroo grinned into the phone, flopping down on the bed. He needs to have a full rest today to look refreshed at the Armani unveiling tomorrow. “You didn’t tell me you were back! How was Thailand?”

 

 

“TetsuBro!” His friend all but squawked excitedly on the other line. “Thailand was wonderful, and we get to play against good teams, too! You should have been there, bro, their blocking skills are almost as good as yours!”

 

 

Kuroo laughed blandly. He had left the National Team at the height of his showbiz career about three years ago and he has not touched a volleyball ever since.

 

 

Koutarou must have noticed his slight discomfort because the owl suddenly started hooting excitedly again. “Actually, I called because I wanted to invite you out tonight! _Ambrosia_ , my treat!”

 

 

“I can’t bro. I have this event—

 

 

“No buts! We haven’t seen each other in ages!”

 

 

The truth of the matter is that they last met up at the airport (Kuroo from Hokkaido, Bokuto out to Thailand) about two weeks ago, which shouldn’t really count as _ages_. Technically.

 

 

“I’m not giving you a chance to refuse,” Bokuto hooted with glee. “Akaashi and I are the way to your place right now.”

 

 

The bedhead sighed. Maybe he could indulge his friend in a drink or two.

 

 

***

 

 

“Kiyoko-sama!”

 

 

It was as if Kei was transported back to his first year in high school, to the time when these two idiots he had the misfortune of calling _senpai_ (one of them now practically family when Akiteru decided to betray Kei one more time and marry Tanaka Saeko) acted like the total simpletons that they were around their former manager. They’d see Shimizu, leap right at her with happy tears, and then a loud—

 

 

_SMACK!_

 

 

Yep, that happened. Seriously, why did these two idiots just looked so happy when they just got a pretty brutal slap to the face?

 

 

“Kiyoko-sama!” They wailed, clutching at the empty space near the raven. “We missed you!”

 

 

Kiyo took to hiding behind Kei for fear of contacting their weirdness which brought him to the two idiots’ attention. Tanaka instantly put on his most fearsome look while Noya pulled himself to his full height, which was still nowhere near Kei’s. The blonde scoffed and hid a smirk behind the back of his left hand.

 

 

“And who might you be?” Tanaka asked with a menacing glare. The misidentification was understandable, though, since Kei has cut off ties from everyone in Japan when he left with his parents. Even Akiteru who stayed back wasn’t able to grab hold of him, more so when he returned with Kiyo. “Why are you so close to our Kiyoko-sama, _shitty boy?_ ”

 

 

Noya piped up, looking up and down at him and scoffed. “Are you her boyfriend?”

 

 

Kei and Kiyo looked at each other and smiled. Tsukki placed a possessive arm around Kiyo’s shoulders about the same time the girl wrapped long, slender limbs around the male’s waist, inwardly snickering at the scandalized look of the two before them.

 

 

Before anyone could even react, though, Yamaguchi turned his way to the lounge’s entrance and fucking beamed, like his birthday and all his favorite holidays came early.

 

 

“Tsukkiiiiiii!”

 

 

At that, people turned to the blonde. With gold contacts on, dressed in light gray button down polo that showed his toned arms, snugly fit khakis that highlighted his tight ass and a pair of black roshe to tone down the somewhat formal look, no one would ever suspect that the man standing before them is the same snarky, salty teenager they knew back then.

 

 

All of them seemed to find their voices all at once.

 

 

“Tsukishima Kei? Are you really Tsukishima?

 

 

“Are you really really—?”

 

 

“Wow what happened you look like a model!”

 

 

“Are you back for good? Are you going to join the national team?”

 

 

“Are you and Shimizu-san a couple? Thought you liked—?”

 

 

“Damn it Tsukishima will you ever stop growing?”

 

 

The past Tsukishima would have cowered and avoided the throng of people closing over him, but that was so long ago. The guy seemed to have gained a lot of confidence while he was away somewhere, because he simply smiled charmingly as though it was something he was used to doing every day.

 

 

“One at a time, guys, I just got here!” He laughed and looked around, to general amusement from his former team members who were quite pleased that he was now warming up to people. “How about we get this party started, huh?”

 

 

***

 

 

The party was in full swing the time Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo got to Ambrosia. Koutarou instantly nodded his head and waved his arms in time with the beat blasting from almost all sides of the dance floor, while Akaashi walked with purposeful steps towards the bar. Kuroo decided to follow suit, but was held back by the throng of dancing people who realized who he was and decided to take selfies with him. The younger guy was already halfway through his second drink by the time the actor extracted himself from the mob, limbs hopefully intact, jaw almost becoming unhinged by smiling way too much at people whose names he did not even know.

 

 

“It seems that you’re not the only celebrity tonight, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi told him nonchalantly as he slid to the next bar stool, getting himself a glass of scotch from the bartender. “I just heard that Karasuno was holding a reunion party tonight, and Kageyama and Hinata decided to come.”

 

 

But the cat wasn’t listening—he had stopped paying attention to Akaashi after the words _Karasuno_ and _reunion_ , his heart beating wildly against his chest. If it were true, and everyone was in attendance, then that would mean—

 

 

Kei. A part of him whispered urgently while his hazel eyes scanned the room for any sign of his darling firefly. _Kei is here, somewhere. Must find him._

 

 

At that moment a loud cheer came collectively from the crowd in the dance floor, parting ways for a couple to make their way through to the makeshift stage. Kuroo was about to turn away from all the ruckus when he recognized who the girl was: Tall, pretty, well-endowed, with a beauty mark on her cheek.

 

 

Kiyoko Shimizu was smiling at someone still among the throng, hands outstretched in an invitation to join her upstage, which was then grasped by long fair arms and after another wave of cheers erupting from the people, a tall _delectable_ blonde was with her, an awkward smile playing on his lips.

 

 

Kuroo almost dropped his glass in shock, even more so when Kiyoko suddenly started dancing provocatively around a flustered Kei, whose face was already turning a deep shade of red.

 

 

“Is that the Karasuno manager onstage?” Akaashi spoke up beside him, making him jump a bit. “She looks different.”

 

 

“She sure does.” Was all he said in reply, taking a large swig of his drink. Bokuto reached them at that moment, eyes also on the podium. Akaashi handed him his own drink.

 

 

The wing spiker hooted in surprise. “Hey, isn’t that Tsukki?”

 

 

Kuroo feigned nonchalance while Akaashi’s eyes lit up momentarily in surprise. “Really? Tsukishima Kei? Karasuno’s middle blocker? Kuroo’s ex boyf—“

 

 

“Yes.” Kuroo pointedly said to the subdued owl, not waiting for him to finish. “Seems like it.”

 

 

“TSUKKIIIIIII!” Bokuto shouted excitedly, making Kuroo nervous. What if the blonde saw them? Saw Kuroo? What would he do? More importantly, what would Kuroo do?

 

 

It seemed like the gods still favored him because the blonde did not hear the owl’s call over the loud music. However, it was Kiyoko who turned and looks straight into Kuroo’s eyes.

 

 

Damn it.

 

 

The girl smiled wickedly, turned to Kei and pulled the man by the neck so they could be face to face. Kuroo’s hand tightened on his glass. Kiyoko then planted a kiss on his cheeks, eliciting catcalls from the other partygoers. The slight raise in Akaashi’s eyebrows did not escape Kuroo’s peripheral vision, just as it did not escape Akaashi’s olive eyes how Kuroo’s knuckles whitened.

 

 

Kotarou, bless his simple soul, turned to the both of them with a confused expression. “Are those two together?”

 

 

Akaashi took a swig of his own drink, seemingly uninterested, but Tetsurou knew better: he was just as curious as his boyfriend was. He was merely downplaying it a bit.

 

 

“They seem close.” The raven started, mimicking Akaashi and downing his shot. “They were also like that during the shoot so I guess they could be.”

 

 

“Shoot?” Bokuto echoed, looking back at the two figures on the dance floor. It seemed that the blonde had already let go of his inhibitions and started dancing just as sensually as his partner. It was not even that dirty to look at; if anything it was beautiful, their dance. The two just paired up so well they make everything they do seem like a work of art. Tetsurou replaced his glass down the counter with a little more force than what is required.

 

 

“Kei is a model now. We worked together for Armani a month ago.” He said simply, and then turned to the barista. “Another shot, please.”

 

 

“You did?” Bokuto jumped, turning away from the stage to face his best bro. “You actually met Kei a month ago? Why didn’t you tell me? How did it go? Did you two already tal—

 

 

“Kou.” Akaashi cut off, and Kuroo inwardly thanked the quiet owl. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

 

 

With an overexcited nod Bokuto pulled Akaashi towards the throng of people, leaving Kuroo with his muddled thoughts and raging jealousy.

 

 

***

 

 

Tsukishima Kei wanted to strangle somebody to death. But since that certain somebody was Kiyoko Shimizu, all the blonde could do was inwardly seethe at her and complain halfheartedly about being dragged onstage and dance in front of all these people. Sure, he wasn’t as much as a recluse as before, but even outgoing Tsukishima has his limits.

 

 

Like sexy dancing in front of a wild crowd, for example.

 

 

He was about to grumble again when Kiyo suddenly pulled him by the collar of his shirt that their faces were suddenly close (too close than he would have liked, honestly) and placed her lips to the shell of his ear. At the right angle it would look like the lady was giving him a kiss, but in reality all the girl did was to whisper to the blonde.

 

 

“Don’t look now, but cat captain is here.”

 

 

It took all of his willpower to keep a straight face despite the fact that his heart started pounding erratically against his chest when he realized what those words mean.

 

 

_Kuroo is here?_

 

 

As if she could hear Kei’s unvoiced question, Kiyo wrapped her arms around him tighter and laughed into his ear. The crowd catcalled and whistled, thinking they were kissing deeply. 

 

 

“Nine o’clock, by the bar.” Kiyo whispered again before making a show of kissing his cheeks.

 

 

Kei decidedly avoided looking at the bar until the song ended and they descended downstage, where Kiyo was instantly pulled in by Yachi so she could dance with the others who were also enjoying themselves on the dance floor. The blonde was parched and was in dire need of cold water, but remembering his ex was by the bar, he decided to go straight to the restroom instead and somehow freshen up.

 

 

That decision was a mistake, he realized, because he opened the restroom door to a surprised Kuroo Tetsurou, who was on his way out as well. Before he could say another word, he felt himself being pulled in, the doors clicking close, and a pair of warm, wet lips closing over his own.

 

 

He gasped into the kiss, half in surprise, half in aching familiarity. The guy kissed exactly as Kei remembered: soft, coaxing, seeking entrance. He moved exactly as he remembered: how they sucked at his bottom lip, how his pink tongue glided over his teeth until he granted him entrance, how his calloused hands cupped his chin gently, pulling their faces impossibly closer. His moan was even exactly the same pitch: the same half-whining, half-growling sound.

 

 

“Kei” the raven whispered his name like a prayer, arms making their way to his waist. “Kei…” he said again, swooping down to slot their lips together for a second time.

 

 

Out of their own volition Tsukki’s arms made their way to Tetsurou’s chest, long fingers stopping just under the collar, the front of the raven’s shirt bunching inside his clenched fists. His answering moan fueled the other to deepen the kiss, making it a hot battle between tongues and lips and fogging breaths that reek of alcohol. Their kiss was intoxicating, drowning Kei in a multitude of feelings he has tried to repress and forget when they broke up years ago.

 

 

Love.

 

Hate.

 

Anger.

 

Happiness.

 

Sadness.

 

 

He was feeling everything all at once, and he wasn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. He knows he should stop, with numerous warning bells ringing in the more logical side of him all once and he knew he just had to—

 

 

Tetsurou wedged a muscled thigh between Tsukki’s legs, the latter unable to stop the pleasured gasp and the low whine that escaped his lips. The bedhead swallowed all his wanton sighs with a heated kiss, suppressing groans of his own.

 

 

“Kuroo this is wro—“, he tried to say in between kisses, but his lust-filled voice did not really contain the conviction it needed. Tetsurou paid no heed to his feeble attempts at stopping, his hips moving against the blonde’s own in fluid waves of pure pleasure that sent his eyeballs rolling back into its sockets.

 

 

“Shh…” Kei can feel Tetsurou’s lips on the exact same spot on his ear where Kiyo’s had been earlier, but his breath was warmer, and the spot where his tongue teasingly licked the outline of the shell seemingly scorched the expanse of skin it contacted, making the tips of his ears burn red-hot.

 

 

“Don’t tell me this is wrong, Kei.”

 

 

The raven looked at him in all seriousness, warm brown orbs meeting startled golden ones. His hands, which had been gripping his waist tightly, now travelled down south in a heated trail of teasing fingers. Kei couldn’t help but hitch his breath when those fingers reached the waistband of his pants, and felt the raven’s lips on his neck, showering it with light butterfly kisses.

 

 

The blonde pulled his head back as soon as those heated lips landed on his neck, granting the actor easy access to his pale skin, eyes slowly closing shut in pleasure as the other sucked a bruise into his collarbone.

 

 

Then those roaming hands left the waistband of his pants only to cup the growing bulge in between his thighs. Kei opened his eyes in surprise as a voice of reason finally told him to stop, to push the other away, to get out of the bar as fast as he can, to get as far away as he could from this dangerous person holding him.

 

 

His hands tried to push the actor away, but said actor pushed himself into him, licking a wet strip from his collarbone to the underside of his chin.

 

 

“You want this.” The bedhead told him breathlessly, his hand travelling the hard length of the blonde’s clothed cock. “Your body is responding to me honestly, firefly.”

 

 

All his rebuttals flew out the window when Tetsurou finally grabbed hold of his shaft and squeezed. He keened over in pleasure, a long, drawn-out moan deliciously escaping his lips.

 

 

 _Tetsu._ Against all logic, Kei looked at the raven with lust-ridden eyes, eager to get release. _Tetsu please._

 

 

Kuroo Tetsurou did not disappoint. As if he could read the silent plea clearly in Kei’s eyes, he eagerly went down on his knees and fumbled with the front of his jeans. Tsukki whimpered again as Kuroo’s trembling fingers constantly grazed the head of his now leaking cock, begging to be set free of its confines.

 

 

Kei heard his button snap open with a pop, which prompted him to look down at the cat captain kneeling before him. He was greeted by the same lust-filled eyes that mirrored his own, and a self-satisfied smirk of the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

 

 

But in this case, Kuroo Tetsurou is the cat about to eat the crow.

 

 

“I got you, baby.” The man said, licking his lips as he pulled Kei’s pants down, cock straining against his dinosaur-printed boxers (the sight of which made the cat smile and the crow blush profusely in embarrassment). He unconsciously licked his lips at the sight of the wet stain growing wider, and reached out a tentative finger to give the head an experimental prod.

 

 

The high whine that escaped him gave the man the confidence he needed. “Let me make you feel better.” And the next thing he knew, Kuroo was giving his shaft open-mouthed kisses outside his underwear, moaning deliciously as he ran his nose up its length.

 

 

“You smell so good, babe.” Tetsurou whispered as he bit the waistband of Kei’s boxers. Looking up at the blonde, he smiled oh-so seductively as he pulled the dino-printed clothing down with his teeth.

 

 

Kei gasped for the umpteenth time that day, his shaft twitching excitedly as it sprang loose.

 

 

Tetsurou wasted no time in giving the head a few quick teasing licks. “You taste so good, too.”

 

 

***

 

 

Kuroo Tetsurou is a man of many talents. It is why he has survived in show business, even in the midst of numerous faces that come and go, despite other stars whose careers wax and wane and even threaten to overshadow others. He is a man who is able to do anything, even when it is his first time doing it, and he does it well.

 

 

Kuroo Tetsurou is a man of many talents, but he is especially proud of his cock-sucking skills. Say it loud to the world: Kuroo giving head.

 

 

You see, there is an art to giving blowjobs. Cock-sucking is an actual science, and one does not simply put a hard penis into one’s mouth, bob one’s head up and down, and hope for the best. There are _techniques_ , steps and moves that only experts can do and amateurs can ever hope of being able to do so. Not to mention his infamous lack of gag reflex, which is a gift bestowed upon only a few.

 

 

Which is why he went down on Tsukishima Kei with a shit-eating grin, with the aim of reminding his firefly about the wonders only his mouth can do. 

 

 

_I am better than anyone, Kei. I am better than her._

 

 

He was rewarded by a delicious moan and a rush of warm sticky liquid down his throat, which he sucked greedily, milking Kei’s shaft until the very last drop. Seeing the blonde come undone was always a religious experience for the bedhead, and seeing him undone because of him left him with a warm, tingling feeling that spread all throughout his body and made his toes curl. He gave the blonde a smile and made a show of swallowing the other’s cum, before standing straight up so they could both be at the same eye level.

 

 

Kei’s golden eyes followed his every move, chest heaving as he panted from the sheer pleasure of his climax. He trained his own brown ones on those golden orbs, allowing himself to get lost in them. He cupped the blonde’s chin and kissed him deeply, allowing the man to taste himself. Kuroo couldn’t help but moan into the kiss at that thought, and rutted against the man currently caged in his embrace to relieve himself of the ache he was feeling in his groin.

 

 

“Kei…I missed you.” He said in between kisses, wanting the other to say the same. “God, I missed you so much, Kei.”

 

 

Kei stopped kissing him altogether and stared at Kuroo like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The bedhead unconsciously held his breath in anticipation when Tsukki opened his mouth to say something, his golden eyes softening as he looked at the guy before him.

 

 

_I missed you too, Tetsu. I missed you so much._

 

 

Kuroo would kill to be able to hear those words again from this beautiful blonde, but even if it were, Kei never got round to telling him because there was a sudden knock at the door.

 

 

“Kei?” It was Kiyoko’s voice, soft and concerned. A few more soft raps came and then, “Are you still in there? You are taking quite a while already.”

 

 

It was as if Tsukishima snapped out from a trance. He blinked once, twice, many times at Kuroo in conclusion and pulled his pants back up, blushing guiltily.

 

 

“I’m okay, Kiyo.” He said, voice hoarse from all the suppressed moans and muffled groans. “I’ll be out in a while.”

 

 

The crow then turned his back to the cat and moved to pull open the restroom door, not once looking at Kuroo. It frightened the bedhead; what if he disappeared again and Tetsurou won’t see him after another month?

 

 

What if he disappeared again and Tetsurou won’t see him again… _forever?_

 

 

No. No no _no no no nonononono—_

 

 

He threw his arms around Kei’s middle in a tight back hug, trembling with fear and sobbing on the other’s shoulder. Kei’s hand stilled halfway to the doorknob, momentarily frozen.

 

 

“Kei, please…” He said over and over in tears, like a chant, like a mantra, like a spell. He tightened his grip and sobbed harder.

 

 

Please what? Please listen to me? Please forgive me? Please take me back? Please love me back?

 

 

Please _what_?

 

 

“Let go of me, Kuroo-san.” Kei said simply, hands prying Tetsurou’s arms away from his midrib. Kuroo finally let go after a forceful shove from Tsukki, silent tears incessantly flowing. The blonde gave him a cold stare before finally walking out the door and into the arms of a waiting Kiyoko Shimizu.

 

 

“Kei, please… _stay._ ” He whispered, watching the two disappear into the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter 5: The Girl in Between | Onna No Naka **

 

_“What had she got to lose, if she was asking for nothing in exchange?”_

_-Paulo Coelho|Eleven Minutes_

 

***

 

Kiyoko Shimizu looked at herself at the vanity mirror after the makeup artist declared that she was done. She smiled at the result: her cheekbones looked more prominent, the bridge of her nose more defined, her blush made her look like a blushing teenager with a petty crush and her skin looked absolutely dewy; nobody would know that she’s operating on auto-pilot, what with only three hours of sleep.

 

 

“You look absolutely beautiful, Shimizu-san.” Her makeup artist smiled at her reflection in the mirror, putting her brushes away. She then turned to the man seated on the next vanity. “Doesn’t she, Tsukishima-san?”

 

 

The said person looked up from the magazine he was reading, looking like he just woke up. (He did even if it was already 4PM, and he would never have even bothered getting up had Kiyo not barged in and pulled him out of bed forcefully.) The blonde had retreated back to his shell after Kiyo had successfully extracted him form the male toilets of Ambrosia, making the female model wonder what happened there.

 

 

“She always has been.” He said in a monotone like he was simply stating a fact, which of course, he was. Tsukishima Kei had always thought that the ravenette was beautiful even back in high school and has blossomed more throughout the years.

 

 

He tried to ignore the twitterpatted squeals of Kiyo’s makeup artist and that of the wardrobe crew, who were obviously ‘shippers’ of their partnership behind the camera lens. He turned back to his magazine while Kiyo laughed at their antics.

 

 

“Guys,” Kiyo dabbed a napkin at the corner of one eye, taking extra care not to smudge the heavy kohl liner around it in the process. “Stop teasing _my moonshine_. He’s not comfortable with it.”

 

 

The squeals started again as Kei looked up for a second time just to send the former manager a look that clearly said, _your moonshine? Really?_ Kiyo could only smile as she stared into those emotionless golden eyes, wondering when was the last time she saw them lit up in happiness.

 

 

She had chanced upon her kouhai five years ago, just when she was starting to find her niche in the glitzy and glamorous world of fashion. Their first meeting was like fate’s idea of a joke and looking back at it now, Kiyo would have laughed with fate at the punchline.

 

 

***

 

 

_Shimizu Kiyoko did not even bother to wipe away the sweat dripping from her forehead as she dropped the big box she was holding, knowing that it doesn’t really matter right now. She was already looking like a mess, what with her mascara running from all the tears she shed and her make-up practically smudged all over her face from all her furious wiping. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, not the instagram-worthy hairstyle, but the hairstyle that suggested the owner has gone through some pretty rough shit and took it out on her tresses. She had on a loose plain white shirt that she has haphazardly tied up to a knot at her left hip, a pair of denim cut-offs, and her ugliest pair of socks over her favorite cream-colored bunny slippers._

_So yeah, looking at her now, no one would be able to recognize her as Kiyoko Shimizu, the up-and-rising rookie model of the year. Not that she would have minded; she was too busy mourning to care about her appearance. She paced around her condominium building’s rooftop area in tears, muttering angry curses at her jerk of an ex-boyfriend who she caught cheating on her with another model in THEIR bed._

_“I hate you!” She shouted into the darkness, hauled the contents of the big box into a metal garbage bin, which she set on fire. “I hate you, you jerk! I wish you’d just die!”_

_Her jerk of an ex-boyfriend did not even offer an explanation, did not even grant her the satisfaction of throwing him out of their shared unit. The moment she caught them, the devil just calmly dressed himself up, threw the other party her clothes (who knew you could put on skin-tight jeans and wraparound kimono top in no less than two minutes? Kiyoko did not, obviously, but she knows now) and said “it’s over, Shimizu.” on his way out._

_Watching all his ex-boyfriend’s gifts for her burn left her weak in the knees, questioning the greater cosmos. She had been a good girlfriend: she always made time for him despite her busy schedule, she always supported him in his shaky career as a songwriter/band member, she remained loyal despite the many courtship offers her way. She had been nothing but good, so why did he still cheat on her?_

_A glint of gold by her feet caught her tear-filled eyes. Bending down, she saw that it was a golden necklace with a double sixteenth note pendant, the first gift he ever gave her. She burst into fresh tears once again and threw it away into the void._

_“You are my muse, Kiyoko.” He had smiled genuinely as he clasped the necklace around her neck. “Every note of every song, it’s all for you.”_

_“I hate you!” She half-sobbed, half-shouted, remembering all the good times that they had. Even when he hurt her, she could never deny that she was happiest when she’s with him. “I hate that I love you…even if you hurt me.”_

_At that moment the fire spluttered and dimmed down to an ember glow, having burned out the last of the contents of her ‘moving-on box’. It was then that it all hit her: she had nothing to remember him by anymore, and for some reason it did not settle well with her heart._

_Fuck, what have I done?_

_In a state of panic, she ran to the direction where she threw the necklace away, hoping against all hope that she would still find it. And she did, but it was dangling precariously at the edge of the rooftop rails, the gold glinting, teasing her to come and get it._

_She heaved a long sigh and climbed over the rails, notwithstanding the danger, the possibility of her plummeting to her death eighty floors down. All that mattered is that she recovers the necklace, the last piece of him she can cling onto._

_“Don’t jump!”_

_She jumped up at the sound of the new voice and would have fallen straight to her death if not for a pair of strong arms that snaked around her waist and pulled her back to safety. The necklace, however, did not make it and it was all she could do not to cry helplessly as they watched it fall down, never to be found again._

_“Now look what you have done you—_

_“I thought you were going to jump!”_

_“And why would I do that…Tsukishima?!”_

_“Shimizu-senpai?!”_

***

 

The two of them had had enough run-ins after that, whereupon they realized they both lived on the same floor of the same building. This close proximity led to them seeking each other out, seeing as the still-snarky blonde did not really know anyone in Milan. The traditional weekend hangouts at their units became twice per week, then every other day, until they took turns inviting the other over for homemade dinner where they talked about themselves and everything else over food and the occasional wine. Getting the blonde to open up to her wasn’t easy, but when it happened, Kiyoko was filled with so much sympathy that she pulled the younger to her chest and vowed she’d never allow anyone to hurt her moonshine ever again.

_On the night after Kei’s first ever (but nonetheless successful) fashion show, the blonde pulled her aside and handed her a small beribboned tiffany blue box._

_“What is this, moonshine?” She asked, looking up to the blushing boy. Throughout the course of their friendship they had been giving each other gifts, but nothing expensive. She knew that the box contained jewelry, and judging by the packaging, surmised that it did not come in cheap, either._

_“It’s a thank-you gift.” The blonde said in a low voice, blushing in embarrassment that she couldn’t help but grin. He is so cute it’s such a shame he always hides behind a stoic mask. “I never thanked you properly for getting me into modelling.”_

_She nodded, opening the box to reveal a golden necklace with a double sixteenth note as a pendant, just like the one she lost the day they first met again._

_“I’m sorry we never found your necklace, Shimizu-senpai.” The blonde said, lacing his fingers together. “I know it isn’t exactly the same as the one you lost but—_

_It’s not the same? The blonde’s words prompted her to take a closer look at it and saw that the blonde was right. It wasn’t a double sixteenth note but a kanji pendant. It was the kanji for the moon._

_“It’s better.” She gave him a watery smile. “It’s not the same, Kei, it’s better.”_

 

 

***

 

 

“Moonshine.” she said in a singsong voice, giggling again at the sight of the blonde’s furrowed eyebrows and annoyed pout, making him look like a cute toddler throwing a tantrum. She held out a hand, where a golden necklace with a kanji pendant lay. “Put this on me, will you?”

 

 

Kei’s gold eyes sparked a little once he recognized the piece of jewelry and huffed in faux-annoyance, but stood up and clasped it around her long, slender neck anyway. The necklace was Kiyo’s sort-of-lucky charm, and she wore it on so many important occasions that both of them had lost count. And every single time, it was Kei who would put in on for her.

 

 

Apparently, the Armani Fall Line unveiling was important to the lady, despite her initial threat to drop the project if paired with anyone other than Tsukishima.

 

 

“Let’s go?” The beauty asked her long time co-model with a smile, wrapping both hands around one toned arm. The said co-model adjusted his cardigan one last time (they were using the same clothes they donned in the shoot for _cohesion,_ as Etienne Lavaude said with a theatrical flourish that had both models rolling their eyes) before nodding and ushering the both of them from their dressing room to the car waiting to take them to the venue.

***

 

 

“I thought I told you to _stay professional._ ” Yaku gritted through clenched teeth (passing it off as a smile—you can never tell when the paparazzi decide to strike) at the sight of one Kuroo Tetsurou looking exactly the opposite of a person who’s actually followed orders to rest well. His bedhead was even worse the afternoon Yaku came to check up on him—like a cat and a rat had rough, wild sex on it the night previous; strands sticking out in almost every direction imaginable and haughtily defying all applicable laws of physics. He had obvious dark circles under his eyes (thank god for the miracle called concealer) and he seemed out of focus, like he was still nursing a hangover. Upon further inspection (and stepping over personal boundaries), Yaku came to the conclusion that his talent was out partying at the night before an important event instead of prepping up.

 

 

“I _am_ a professional.” Kuroo drawled in his I-am-hungover-but-I’m-trying-to-act-otherwise-and-failing-miserably voice, stretching like a cat from his bed. “Look at me, getting out of bed when all I really wanted was to lie in.”

 

 

Yaku rolled his eyes at his former volleyball captain and watched him walk dazedly towards his en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t after he heard the sound of the shower running that he pulled out his phone and called the glam team to convene in Kuroo’s for an intervention.

 

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

 

Kuroo, on the other hand, stood under the shower’s stream for quite a while, letting his tears mingle and flow down along with the cold tap water. Flashbacks of last night’s events came flooding back to him the moment he caught a glimpse of his miserable self in the mirror, and it jolted him up from his hangover faster than any homemade remedy Yaku had ever forced him to try.

 

 

Kei’s surprised face when he saw him.

 

 

Kei’s warm soft lips.

 

 

Kei’s tentative caresses.

 

 

Kei’s cute little gasps and moans.

 

 

Kei, coming _for_ him, coming _because_ of him.

 

 

Kei, brushing him off like nothing happened.

 

 

Kei walking away with that Shimizu Kiyoko, looking every bit the _power couple_ the fashion world made them out to be.

 

 

His heart constricted tightly against his chest at the last memory, and a single tear had dropped before he could even hit the shower. Fumbling with shaky hands and blurring vision due to tears, he turned on the shower and sobbed, hiding his painful cries under the sound of the water rushing.

 

 

He knows that he deserves the pain, but that doesn’t lessen the sting. If anything, the guilt makes it worse. He hurt his little firefly, despite the promise that he’d never do so. His Tsukishima Kei, who was nothing but supportive of him, who was nothing but understanding of every slip-up he’s ever done. He lost him because of his own selfishness, and now he’s paying the price.

 

 

_His Tsukki_ …is he even allowed to call him that? Or is it Kiyoko who holds that honor now?

 

 

The thought of the raven-haired lady currently basking in the light of his little firefly made him cry a little more, until Yaku pounded on his bathroom door, saying they only have _“fifteen minutes for hair and make-up, you stupid cat, do you think we’re capable of creating a miracle here?”_

***

 

 

Kiyoko looked at her partner, who just sighed for the fifteenth time in no less than five minutes. She knows the number to be accurate, she’s counted. The blonde was now looking out his window like the bustling cityscape of Tokyo is all new to him, but five years of interacting with the moon has taught her one thing: Kei is troubled and wouldn’t tell her the reason.

 

 

It’s not like he has to, anyway. Kiyo knows, and she believes she might have an idea what happened for the blonde to retreat back into the shell that she has tried so hard to coax him out from.

 

 

It all boils down to that Kuroo Tetsurou. Really, who else?

 

 

She found herself inwardly seething at the thought of the former Nekoma captain. She could not forget the blonde’s confession about why his previous relationship has fallen apart and pushed him to find solace someplace else, and what she learned hasn’t exactly placed the cat captain in her good book.

 

 

“Kei?” She asked tentatively, observing him from the corner of her eyes. They were almost to the venue, the infamous Shibuya Crossing, one of the city’s most notable streets and possibly the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. It has been estimated that about 2,500 people cross the pedestrian lanes every single time the lights change, for a grand total of almost a million passers by every day. Armani is going to attempt yet another new unveiling style for its Fall line, no holds barred. And they are going to be right in the middle of it.

 

 

The blonde jumped up almost imperceptibly and looked at her, stoic mask already steadfast. “Hmm?”

 

 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” She asked tentatively, fiddling on the _tsukki_ pendant on her sternum. It was a nervous habit she has come to acquire ever since the passive model had gifted her the necklace, since the thought of having Tsukki by her side (even if he wasn’t and it was just the kanji for his name) was reassuring and helped her calm down.

 

 

“What would I want to tell you?” Ah, telltale sign number two. Kei retorts to his snarky persona when he has a secret he doesn’t want anyone prying in. “Kiyoko, I’m okay. Don’t think I have missed the way you looked at me.”

 

Telltale sign number three: non-use of nicknames. Tsukishima always calls her _Kiyo_ (and is the only one she has allowed to) except for when his patience is wearing thin on her. It is always one she considers a warning; a bark before the actual bite.

 

 

But then again, maybe Shimizu Kiyoko would rather have an irritated Kei rather than a sad Kei.

 

 

“In which way do I look at you, hmm?” She teased with her most sensual grin (to which the blonde never falls for) and inched closer, tracing the lightest of circles at the back of his left hand. “Do I look at you like a little lovesick puppy eager for attention, moonshine?”

 

 

It has always been a running joke among the two of them how they should just indulge their multitude of fans and just end up being together, but the more she gets to know him, Kiyo feels like it’s becoming less of a joke and more of a possibility but there’s no way she’d tell him that.

 

 

“Like you’re wondering when I’m going to have a breakdown, which I’m not. Never.”

 

 

Kei scoffed indifferently like he always does in all their teasing banters and she couldn’t decide whether it’s a good thing or not, whether she should be sad that Kei will never think of them that way, or she should be happy that they’d remain good friends no matter what, because of the blonde’s platonic feelings for her. But well, future problems for a future you, right? So Kiyo will have to worry about the proverbial bridge when she gets there.

 

 

Before she could retort back, the car they’re riding in came to a full stop at a corner before the Shibuya crossing, signifying that they’ve reached the rendezvous set by the event planning team. True enough, Etienne Lavaude was waiting on them with a giddy smile, alongside a sleepy-looking Kuroo Tetsurou who was having his make-up retouched. Kiyoko sneaked in a final glance at the blonde, gauging his reaction (which was neutral as always—the male model was always the master of bottling his emotions and giving nothing away) before hopping out of the vehicle to hug her friend.

 

 

By the time all the models convened, the project director made a final rundown. Armani’s Fall unveiling show is relatively easy, just unconventional. Instead of a proper runway and a proper show set in a well-lit stage, they will attempt to make the entire crossing their stage, with the models blending in with all the people at first, and then do the catwalk as soon as the cue starts, which is the showing of the new advertisement clip in the entire row of billboards in Shibuya Crossing. Two weeks advertising in just one of these spots costs JPY23,000,000, so one could just surmise how Armani had lavishly spent for their greatest show just yet.

 

 

Kei and Kiyoko are to stand at the end of one street, waiting for their cue to begin. Kuroo (who was still wearing some sort of disguise in order for him not to be identified) was stationed at the other end. The other models are positioned at varied points on the many pedestrian lanes comprising the crowded crossing, disguised as well-dressed strangers coming home from a long night somewhere.

 

 

Without a word, Kei held her hand and pulled her to their start position. Both models made up and impeccably dressed, they looked very much like a match made in heaven that the people around them couldn’t help but stare as discreetly as possible.

 

 

“Oh my god look at that tall guy he’s so handsome!”

 

 

“Do you think he’s a university student? I think I saw him somewhere, I’m not sure where. Maybe around campus?”

 

 

“That well-dressed couple looks so good together.”

 

 

“They are so well-matched!”

 

 

Kiyo fought a grin from spreading on her face. They always get those comments everywhere they go so she’s used to it, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a possibility of them happening at all. She side-eyed her partner again who was in his professional model mode, standing up to his full height and looking regally bored.

 

 

Then the entire strip of electronic billboards went off just as an EDM version of a well-known pop song blared from nowhere. The commuters looked around for the source, wondering what was happening. Then spotlights lit up various parts of the crossing, a cue for the other models to start walking down their unconventional catwalk. As soon as the first set of models started walking, the billboards lit up again, showing the Armani logo and insignia, in regal and proud gold lettering. The spectators whipped out their phones in excitement, eager to record everything in any way or form: pictures, vid clips, even Facebook live.

 

 

Kiyo smiled and laced their fingers together, the smile breaking wider when the blonde squeezed her hands in response.

 

 

***

 

 

Kuroo Tetsurou adjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time, feeling incredibly stupid for donning aviator shades when it was already dark out. He had been tempted loads of times to just throw all precautions to the wind and just take them off, but the two ladies near him kept on whispering his name while glancing at him every once in a while. Being recognized at this point would be detrimental to the show, not to mention Yaku would _definitely_ murder him in his sleep, so the sunglasses had to stay.

 

 

He exhaled audibly when the show started and the models came strutting down in all their autumn collection glory, because they captured the attention of everyone and directed all the staring away from him. He pulled his sunglasses away from his face with another sigh, this time of relief. God knows he was practically blind with them on.

 

He allowed his eyes to roam around, adjusting to the various city lights now that the crossing was bathed in dancing lights in time to the rhythm of the EDM currently playing. He can see the onlookers with their phones out, engrossed in all the fanfare. He can see the excitement and delight on their faces as they captured the current scene, he can see the admiring looks they bestow on the models. One even tried to reach out and touch a female model in thick mufflers and a dress coat and she walked by, making Kuroo smile impishly.  It was pretty understandable though, since this was probably the first time that person saw a fashion show up close.

 

 

He roamed his eyes again, this time focused on the mob directly across him, in the general area where he knows Kei is standing right now, blending in with the sea of people. According to instructions given to them, Kei, Kiyo and Kuroo has to recreate a shot from their photoshoot in the middle of the crossing, as if giving the audience a moving version of the new Armani billboard. Their cue to start was when the music slowed down to acoustics and when the billboard started projecting a loop of falling leaves, when the spotlights zeroed in on them.

 

 

Yaku immediately and wordlessly took his sunglasses from his hands. “Go and own the spotlight, Kuroo.”

 

 

As if on cue, the lights zeroed in on him on one side, and on the couple on the other. The people around him stood paralyzed in surprise as he started walking away from the mob and towards the corner, until the lady who stood beside him earlier all but shouted to her friend, “I told you it was Kuroo Tetsurou!”

 

 

Cheers erupted from all sides of the venue and cameras kept flashing from all directions, but his brown eyes were trained on the couple who was walking towards his direction.

 

 

_No._ Who was he kidding? He was looking at one person alone, one with soft wisps of blonde hair that contradicted the steely glint of the gold in his eyes.

 

 

***

 

 

Kei looked and acted like the professional model that he was, his pretty, stoic face looking positively lovestruck at her as they walked—more like Kei _glided_ —down their designated path. Kiyo looked up at him with a smile, the fleeting thought that they must look like actual lovers to everyone watching made her grin with giddiness.

 

 

_Kei, I’d do everything to make that smile genuine._

Kei untangled their entwined hands and placed one long arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair, inciting a collective _‘aww’_ from the crowd. She wrapped an arm around his waist in retaliation as they continued walking ahead to Kuroo, who was looking straight back at them, jealousy obvious in his face. Kiyo fought back an eyeroll at the cat’s expression, knowing full well that he was an exceptional actor and this was nothing but another job for him.

 

 

He was just acting upon orders, she thought, and hoped Kei would also see the act for what it was. The pained expression on the man was to be expected even, because it was part of the storyline they were all acting upon for the show (damn Etienne and his crazy ideas), that he was supposed to act all jealous at the sight of them together, that he was supposed to project the pain of loving someone you can never have. When the three of them would finally meet at the center, Kuroo was supposed to hold her hand and look at her pleadingly, as if asking her to leave her current lover and pick him instead.

 

 

Needless to say, Kiyo dreaded that part of the show. She does not want to have anything with the guy, especially when Kei started acting back like his old self after just a couple of interactions with him. She hated how the cat obviously still has some power over her moonshine, even when the blonde was giving nothing away. She hated how she was so close to finally putting Tsukki’s broken pieces back together, but then this jerk comes marching in and all her efforts are slowly crumbling. Her grip on Kei’s waist tightened, which prompted the blonde to look at her quizzically, golden eyes wondering. She shook her head with a smile and focused on the task at hand, looking at Kuroo from across them and forcing her features to form a look of longing instead of the murderous glare she would have given had the situation been any different.

 

 

The couple slowed down as they walked past the actor, who, just like they rehearsed, gripped her other free hand. This was the most crucial moment in the entire show, because it was the exact same scenario that the billboard contained, with the caption _Armani: Unrequited_ in soft gold cursive writing running delicately in the lower half of the screen.

 

 

But, instead of looking at Kiyo pleadingly as they rehearsed, the stupid cat looked at the moon instead, and with the look of a man whose heart was utterly, irrevocably broken, whispered, “Please take me back, Kei.”

 

 

The tears Kuroo shed wasn’t part of what they rehearsed, and the kiss that Kei gave Kiyo in retaliation wasn’t either.


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter 6: If This was a Movie | Kore ga Eiga Dattara**

 

  
_Don't feel guilty, I was saying to myself. If he's in love, that's his problem._  
-Paulo Coelho|By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept  
 

  
***

 

   
He caught Kiyoko secretly looking at him for the umpteenth time, and it took all of Kei’s willpower not to lash out at her. He gritted his teeth inwardly and forced his features into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He knows the lady is just concerned about him and he’s grateful for it—yes, really—but this, all of the unasked questions and worried stares is just too much!

 

 

“I’m okay, Kiyo.” He said, voice as bored as he could, “as I’ve told you about six times for the last ten minutes already. Give it a rest.” He sighed and looked away, eyes disinterestedly gazing out to the sea of people socializing in the middle of the hall but not really seeing anything. He could see the lady blushing through his peripherals and briefly wondered whether the kiss earlier was one of the reasons why she’s suddenly acting all shy around him now, but disregarded it soon after. It’s not like she’s never been kissed before, and it’s not like that kiss held any meaning for either of them. They were platonic friends, senpai and kouhai, siblings even. Maybe the tinge on her cheeks can be attributed to alcohol, since the lady was on her third glass of wine already.

 

 

Kiyoko looked like she was about to say something, opening her mouth and closing it soon after, and then opening and closing it again that it made her look like an anxious fish. Kei placed his glass down on the table before them and turned to face her fully, letting her know that she has his undivided attention.

 

 

He was amazed to see that the blush on her face turned darker still.

 

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, half-amused half-concerned, raising one hand to touch the burning cheek. “Do you want to go home already?”

 

 

Kiyoko just nodded, dark eyes blown wide for reasons Kei cannot fathom. Is she suddenly acting shy? It makes no sense, they were close enough that little innocent touches like this was a natural thing for both of them. His hand flew up from her cheek to her forehead, checking for her temperature. She does seem a bit hotter, though.

 

 

“Are you feeling sick? If so we can go to the hosp—

 

 

The blonde’s words died down when Kiyo’s manager came and reminded them of their responsibility to socialize to the guests as this was, in case both of them were forgetting, an after-party for the success of the launch.

 

 

***

 

Yaku was grinning widely while scrolling down his smartphone and the sight of it made Kuroo actually fear for his life. He knew that smile very well, he knew what that meant.

 

_Scheming._

He shuddered despite himself and took to watching the dance floor where all the guests for the launch’s after-party were having the time of their lives. A whole lot of them had congratulated him heartily when he finally came into the exclusive party venue, saying how the show was entirely spectacular and just exactly what they expected from a model and actor of his calibre. He simply smiled at all the well-wishers and took the first drink that a passing waiter was bringing on a circular tray, determined to just stay away from everyone else for the rest of the night.

 

His phone suddenly dinged with a notification, telling him that Armani has just posted something on IG and has tagged him. It was a shot of him and Kei (oh okay, and Kiyoko) during that final part of the show where they had to recreate the official fall billboard picture. It seemed to him like a scene from a movie rather than an actual runway shoot, portraying a love triangle at its finest.

 

Tetsurou’s innate acting skills were showing, his usually cocky, confident expression contorted into one of pain, longing, and pleading. He had both hands clutching Kiyoko’s right hand desperately, but his pitiful look was directed at the blonde who looked on with apathy, devoid of any obvious emotion. Kiyoko’s was one of confusion as she looked up to the bedhead with wide eyes, like a wife caught with a lover.

 

The caption Armani placed was simple, with only a few words: _If this was a movie._

Apparently not only Armani felt that way, because instagrammers have swamped the post with comments saying that they’d _10/10 would watch, this one should really be made into a movie!_

Some said they’d definitely pay to see the models act, especially the cool hottie with the blonde hair; some expressed how they’d love to be the pretty dark-haired girl, and how it must feel like to have two gorgeous guys vying for your love.

 

He scrolled down the multitude of comments that said the same thing over and over, some mentioning their friends, adding to the popularity of the IG post.

 

One comment captured his attention:

 

**neko_neko:** _What I love about this pic is the forlorn look Kuroo-san is giving the other guy. That’s not pleading, that’s grovelling. That’s hoping for a happy ending, and knowing that the happy ending not really lies upon the girl’s consent, but the other guy’s. It shows us that in the pursuit of happiness, we also inflict pain to others. This is love at its most honest. If this was a movie, this would be stellar!_

His fingers hovered over the comment box, debating whether or not he should reply. Usually he would ask for Yaku’s permission (god knows how people can easily twist your words against you if you’re not careful), but the comment was so true and appealed to the bedhead on a more personal level.

 

**KuroTetsu:** _I agree,_ @neko_neko. _Love is not easy. It can be painful, it can be difficult, it can even be exhausting at times. Your smiles come at the price of another person’s tears, your happiness can cause somebody else’s misery. There’s no such thing as a perfect love or a perfect couple, but there are things worth fighting for. If this was a movie, I’d pay for my own ticket! :3c_

Yaku jogged over to where he was just as his phone dinged, signifying an IG notification:

**neko_neko:** _UWAAAAAHHHH IS THIS THE REAL LIFE OHMYGOD KUROO-SAMA OMG PLS_

His strawberry-blonde manager gave him an approving grin as he read the thread through the bedhead’s phone. “Normally I’d smack your head for being stupid and replying to any ridiculous threads on your social media accounts, Kuroo, but I’d let this one pass.” The grin on the man’s face told the actor he’d done well, and whatever it is that Yaku is brewing is going along swimmingly.

 

This time both their phones signified them of another notification.

**Armani_JP:** _If this was a movie,_ @KuroTetsu, _will you do it with_ @Kiyoko_Shimizu?

 

Yaku grinned almost demonically, especially when the comments from the fans were unstoppable after that. The shorter guy clinked his glass against Tetsu’s, downing the wine in one long gulp.

 

“If this was a movie, Kuroo, of course you’d do it.” He grinned, handing over his empty glass at a passing waiter who was holding an empty tray. The bedhead took a sip from his still half-full glass, not really knowing how to respond. Yaku continued, “You’d do it, especially if Tsukki does.”

 

Kuroo almost snorted at the idea. _Tsukki, acting? Huh, as if._

“I know that smirk, Kuroo.” Yaku kept on scrolling down the excited comments of the fans, brown eyes glowing with excitement. “I know you’re thinking that Tsukishima-san wouldn’t do it.”

 

“Of course he wouldn’t, Mori, we both know that.”

 

“We don’t know for sure, Tetsurou.”

 

“I know.” He insisted, taking another sip of his wine. “I know Tsukki, I know how he is around people. He won’t do this.”

 

Yaku looked like he was about to say something, but another notification came as both their phones lighted up at the same time.

 

**Kiyoko_Shimizu _:_** _I wouldn’t mind,_ @Armani_JP. _But only if you can convince_ @KeiTsukishima _to do it too! :)_

**KeiTsukishima:** _Why would I do that?_

 

Kuroo smiled at the last comment, fingers itching to tap on the blonde’s IG handle, but decided against it, knowing that Morisuke was watching his next move. Maybe later, when he’s alone in the privacy of his condo unit.

 

“The Tsukki you knew wouldn’t model, too.” The strawberry blonde said, watching his talent struggle over visiting the model’s IG account or not. “But he did, and he was damn good at it.”

 

**Kiyoko_Shimizu:** _Aw c’mon moonshine :(_ _I’d come to your house every day until you agree!_

“The Tsukki you know wouldn’t act, ever. But that was _before,_ Tetsurou. He was gone for five years. Who’s to say that the Tsukki now won’t do it?”

 

As if to prove Yaku’s point, the blonde model chose to reply to the ravenette at that moment.

 

**KeiTsukishima:** _Well, if it makes you stop._

**ultimatefangirl:** _OMG OMG OMG YEAH somebody call a scriptwriter_

 

**neko_neko:** _yes pls I’m going to line up for tickets tomorrow_

**nyancatnyan:** _i’m lining up now_

 

**justyou_please:** _been in line since yesterday_

 

More comments poured down the thread, the news even crossing over to Twitter and other social media platforms. #EigaDattara was a trending topic in the country that night, and entertainment news sites even talked about what presumably could be the “most promising movie of the year.”

 

Kuroo turned off his phone for the rest of the night and nursed his glass of wine while sulking in the corner. Yaku, for his part, received a sudden phone call that had the man grinning winningly, a sign that only meant one thing: victory.

 

The bedhead merely looked at his manager as he excused himself, probably to find a less noisy area of the bar (good luck, Mori) and turned back to watching the people on the dance floor from his location at one of the darker corners of the balcony.

 

***

 

There was a full-on pout on Kei’s face, and it was insanely adorable that Kiyoko had no choice but to howl in laughter, grace and poise be damned. The two models were currently at the lobby of the modelling agency they both belonged to, after receiving phone calls at ass-o’clock in the morning telling them to report to the office on a goddam _Sunday._ It turned out that the _president_ of the company himself has requested for the meeting, alongside some executives from the country’s number one movie producer groups.

 

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and Kei had facepalmed when he realized the true reason for the meeting.  Damn that #EigaDattara. He shouldn’t even have replied to that IG post.

 

Now Kiyoko was full-on howling with laughter beside him, all splayed out on the sofa in the most unlady-like pose she could be in and taking pleasure in his misery. He wanted to hit her face with the newest Vogue lying on the center table.

 

“Stop being annoying, Kiyo.” He snapped, adjusting his glasses in annoyance. The other model merely laughed harder.

 

“I can’t wait to see your first movie, Kei.” The girl grinned silly, wiping tears from her eyes due to too much laughter. “I bet it’d be spectacular.”

 

“Shut up.” He said, this time throwing her one of the throw pillows square to the face. Kiyo was unfazed, her silly grin permanently etched on her face. “You know I’m not an actor.”

 

“You said the same thing about being a model.” A genuine smile, and grey eyes locked with gold. “And look where you are now, Kei.”

 

***

 

To say Tsukishima Kei was nervous is probably the understatement of the century. The meeting was over before he knew it, and now he was being handed a piece of paper he had to sign. He looked at it, vaguely aware that it was an _acting_ contract for a goddamn _movie._ Beside him, Kiyoko was haphazardly signing hers, making it look like she was just doodling mindlessly instead of signing over a very important piece of paper that just guaranteed them money equivalent to two runway projects.

 

His mind was reeling, and his hands shook as he hovered the tip of his pen on the dotted line where his signature should be affixed. This was a very big leap in his career, and he doesn’t even know if he can do it. Taking poses at the camera were one thing, acting in front of it was another. Heck he even gets nervous during runway shows, how could they expect them to act?!

 

He learned the answer later on: a month-long acting workshop with no other than Japan’s number one actor, Kuroo Tetsurou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IG handles are random; if any of these are yours, sorry!


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter 7: Only You | Anata Dake **

_Whenever you want something, keep your eyes open, concentrate and make sure you know exactly it is you want. No one can hit their target with their eyes closed._

_-Paulo Coelho|The Devil and Miss Prym_

 

There are sides to Shimizu Kiyoko that only a few people know about. For example, only a few people know that she hates grilled mackerel. (Nobody would believe it, too, what with her very convincing CM for a seafood restaurant.) Only a few people know she’s actually allergic to cats, and the fact that she sleeps only in her panties. Despite being a well-known figure in the fashion world on a global level, Kiyoko Shimizu is surprisingly very private, and keeps a lot of secrets to herself.

One of these secrets is the fact that she’s falling fast and hard for the gorgeous salt god by the name of Tsukishima Kei.

Truth be told, she could never tell you when she had fallen for the blonde, but she can tell you the time she finally admitted her feelings to herself.

***

_“Kei?”_

_The blonde turned away from the car window to look at her with a dazed expression. He hadn’t been himself ever since he got out of Ambrosia, mulling over something Kiyoko doesn’t know what. All she knows is that she managed to extract a red-faced Kei from the male rest rooms of the bar, looking thoroughly shaken up like he just managed to fight off a demon and barely came out of the encounter alive._

_She drank in the entirety of Kei’s present state: dishevelled blonde hair, suspiciously crumpled clothes, blank stares, raw red lips…and is that a hickey on his collarbone?!_

_“Are you okay, Moonshine?” She asked in a small voice, gauging the male model’s reaction. Tearful golden eyes blinked back at her, paired with a slightly trembling mouth. She hastily parked her car to one side of the road and shimmied out of her seatbelt and out the driver’s side. She yanked the passenger seat open to a now shaking Tsukishima Kei, who was looking straight ahead at nothing while trying to regulate his breathing, which now came as deep, frantic gulps of air._

_Kiyoko Shimizu suddenly wanted to punch somebody, quite possibly one with messy black hair and an equally-messed up personality; the only one who can shatter stoic, uncaring Tsukishima Kei to the core—_

_Kuroo Tetsurou, that bastard._

_She unbuckled the blonde’s seatbelt with practiced ease; this wasn’t the first time Kei had a panic attack, but this was the first one he had after more than a year, and it was obvious that it wracked him so. She placed both palms on wet, burning, pale cheeks, forcing the guy to look straight to her own._

_“Kei,” she said urgently, willing those gold orbs to look into her grey ones. “Moonshine, look at me.”_

_Tsukishima Kei’s dazed yet tearful gaze transfixed on her, hot tears threatening to fall. “It’s okay, breathe with me.” She whispered, willing herself not to cry even if it pains her to see Tsukki this way. “Inhale, exhale. Slow, deep breaths honey, come on, do as I do.”_

_The blonde struggled to keep up with her pace, his light eyes widening in slight panic. She pulled him close in a loose yet warm embrace, just enough for Kei to hear her heartbeat. They’d found out in the course of the years they’ve been working closely with each other that Kiyoko is, in more ways than one, Kei’s relaxant, and the sound of her heart beating calms the other down._

_She placed a concerned kiss on top of the blonde’s head as she felt the front of her shirt go damp with tears. Kei’s sobs filled the car and it took all of Kiyoko’s willpower not to march over to the entitled bastard right now. Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t deserve somebody as precious as Tsukishima Kei, that’s for certain. He’d just break him over and over and the blonde would let him get away unscathed, leaving him to try and put himself together._

_That devil hasn’t even seen the moon at its darkest, so why should he be given a peek at it in its brightest?_

_“You don’t need him, Kei.” She whispered fervently, carding her fingers through soft blonde locks when then sobs have died down to a few sniffles. “I won’t let him have you.”_

_The ride back was awkward, tension crackling between them just as it does whenever they get to the touchy subject of their exes. Kiyoko still glanced at the blonde in the passenger seat every so often but this time, she was rewarded with a smile. Kei was back to his usual self once again, even when he answered no more than five words every time Kiyo asked him a question regarding their former teammates. She kept blabbering on until they reached the hotel Tsukishima is currently staying at, not minding if she got a response or not._

_“We’re here!” she quipped as she pulled over to the front of Kei’s building. The blonde mumbled a low ‘thanks’ as he freed himself from the confines of his seatbelt._

_“Kei?” Tsukki’s hands stopped halfway through opening the car door, a silent ‘what?’ etched on his face. “You do remember our mantra, right?”_

_The man smiled at her in affirmation and recited the words they used to console each other back in Milan, when they were both hurting and trying to get over stupid exes._

_“Someday, someone will love you so hard, so deep, that all your past loves will pale in comparison.” Kei recited at her, unfeeling golden eyes softening behind black-rimmed glasses._

_“Do you think I’ll ever find someone like that, Kiyo?”_

_She watched the blonde get inside the building without so much as a backwards glance and said, “Someday, Kei, I will love you that way.”_

_If he’d only let her._

***

Today, Shimizu Kiyoko added another item to her ‘secrets’ file. Nobody would be able to guess it, not even Kei, whose intuition and perception of other people’s feelings were almost always on point, but only because she’d taken meticulous care into schooling her features into a neutral expression instead of acting like a lovestruck teenager with a hopeless crush.

The two models just got out from a meeting with their agency’s CEO, where they got over their new contracts once again and how their movie project would invariably affect their modelling career. The man sat beaming at them from behind his desk, looking at them like he was a proud father watching his two most favorite kids.

“So Tsukishima-san,” the CEO began, directing his beady eyes at the blonde. “We have to discuss your living arrangements now that you are required to stay for much longer in Japan.”

Kiyo hid a smile at the soft _tsk_ that escaped Tsukki’s lips. She knew the guy only planned to stay in the country for two weeks, which was the timeframe Etienne initially gave them as soon as they agreed to the project. With the movie in the works, of course the blonde will have to live elsewhere, preferably in a place with strict security and well-hidden from the shrewd eyes of the paparazzi. It’s a necessary precaution, seeing as more and more people are becoming quite curious about the gorgeous models alongside Kuroo Tetsurou in the newest and biggest billboard in Shibuya. The fanfare in social media platforms didn’t help either, as well as the fact that #EigaDattara even made it to top worldwide trends the night of the unveiling.

“As you may know, the agency owns a residential building solely for the purpose of housing our talents, and we can prepare a room for you. But of course, if you want to stay with your family, we will consider that option too.” The CEO smiled a paternal smile at the model, who simply blinked back and then looked at the model beside him.

“Where are you staying, Kiyo?” The words were simple and straightforward and just plain honest, but Kiyoko felt her cheeks burning as her mind supplied her with the implication behind the question.

_Could it be? Could it be that Kei wanted to stay with her?_

She was inwardly swooning and it was becoming increasingly hard to act unaffected, like this sort of thing was the norm between them, but she managed to keep her expression as nonchalant as she possibly could.

“You know my entire family is now in Milan, Moonshine, and we do most of our work in Europe and in the US, so I don’t really have a house here.”

“So…the agency’s condo, then?” Trust Kei to pick up on verbal cues that easily.

“We can get adjacent rooms!” She grinned at him and continued enthusiastically, “Mine is on the topmost floor, and from what I know, the only other room on that floor is unoccupied.”

Gold and grey turned to meet dark brown eyes and an arrangement was made, formally closed with a strong firm handshake. The next day Tsukki had gone over the condo building carrying all he ever owned in Japan, which fit all of one suitcase.

The rest of the week was spent lounging in each other’s rooms (mostly Kei’s), just pigging out and lazing around before work begins again on Monday.

***

_“What part of your body do you like best?”_

Kuroo Tetsurou has lost track of the exact number of times that he has been asked this particular question, especially when he goes on guestings, live interviews, magazine interviews, and the like. People always seemed to like questions like these, questions that provide insight to celebrities’ private lives.

He has always answered with the same answer over and over: _my hair._

And the interviewer would give a disbelieving look at him and his wild mop of hair, then laugh.

Always. Kuroo would even laugh along every single time, even though he was being completely serious about his hair. It made him stand out, it made him unique. Kei even said before that it made looking for him in the middle of a crowd relatively easy.

And hey, it’s soft to the touch, even if it doesn’t look like it. So what’s there not to like?

The interviewer laughed at his answer, as expected.

And as expected, Kuroo laughed along with him.

The next question, however, was one he hadn’t expected.

“How does it feel to be working with your former roommate, Kuroo-san?”

The blank look on his face was proof enough how taken aback he had been with the poised query, even if he hadn’t squeaked out the words _“former roommate?”_

Tsukishima Kei’s picture appeared of the big screen behind the host, obviously taken from one of the blonde’s shoots overseas. It was a simple enough photo, with a plain white background and an imposing designer logo set in the upper left corner of the spread. The blonde was clad in a long ash-grey trench coat with all the buttons open, revealing a black shirt and a black silk tie underneath, the tips of which ended just before the silver buckle of the model’s black leather belt that held up black pants. The shot was at a sideways angle, with the model peering over his aviator glasses in a demeaning manner. The all black ensemble complimented the coat beautifully, making it stand out. Kuroo could tell that the photo made it to the front of a fashion catalogue.

The host had to clear her throat to jostle the actor back to the present.

“He is such a hottie, and I’m sure all the girls would agree with me.” The host giggled and Tetsu was suddenly filled with this unexplainable desire to punch her, despite his strict _a true man does not hurt girls_ policy. He settled on a tense grin instead, hoping against hope he can keep his annoyed gritting at bay. “I almost couldn’t connect this _demigod_ to the lanky university student who lived with you when you were still starting in the entertainment industry, Kuroo-san.”

On cue, a candid picture of his firefly appeared as an inset to the former pic, showing the blonde as a _daigakusei_.

“He’s such a cutie even back then.” The host giggled again. “You sure are lucky, Kuroo-san.”

He laughed wryly at that comment. _Yeah, really lucky. And really stupid._

***

“Good job on that show, Tetsurou.” Yaku greeted him as soon as he slipped out of the studio and walked with him to his assigned dressing room to get changed. The bedhead just nodded as he shrugged out of his coat. “What’s next on my schedule?” “Another interview.” His manager supplied, pointedly not meeting his eye. “We have an hour.”

***

Kiyoko Shimizu had another secret, but it was one she never even bothered to hide.

She felt her fellow model tense up beside her as the talk show started, even as the both of them sat waiting in the back stage. Tsukishima was never one for crowds, especially one who’s eager to pry him with a multitude of questions. She casually reached over and enclosed the blonde’s cold hand with both of hers, warming it instantly.

“You’ll be fine.” She said, smiling up at the blonde and disregarding the unmistakable clicking sound of a phone camera shutter. Maybe it was from one of the TV crews, fangirling over their pairing. It was, after all, known to both her and Kei how people loved shipping them and how their _partnership_ had a large following.

There was a small frown on the man’s features before he schooled it to his usual disinterested expression. She almost didn’t catch the soft _as long as you’re here_ that escaped the blonde’s lips, which had her grinning brightly as they were called to the stage for their interview.

That is, until she saw the other guest.

Kiyoko Shimizu hates Kuroo Tetsurou, and that is an open secret.


End file.
